Alone
by whitchry9
Summary: Five times Arthur shouldn't have been left alone, and the one time he was fine. Written for a prompt.
1. Sausages

Carolyn had always dreaded this day. For all of Arthur's 29 and a half years, she'd feared this moment.

In a way, she was almost relieved that it had finally arrived.

She'd arrived home from a not-date with Herc (because he was not her boyfriend, teenagers had boyfriends) to find the firetrucks outside her home.

It didn't look that worse for wear, not burning down, no flames shooting out of windows, but there was lingering smoke, and her son perched in the back of an ambulance, wrapped up in an atrocity with a paramedic attending to him.

"Arthur?" she called, rushing over.

Arthur looked up. "Mum!" he chirped, shoving the oxygen mask off his face. "Look what I got!" he said, beaming. Carolyn raised an eyebrow. "They said I can keep the blanket!"

"Oh... yes, that's lovely."

It wasn't really. It was one of those hideous orange things. But if Arthur was happy...

"Arthur," she trilled, getting his attention. "What happened?"

Arthur looked away, sheepish.

"I was just trying to make supper," he began before Carolyn cut him off.

"Whatever possessed you to think that would be a good idea?" She levelled a glare at him.

"I was hungry?" he offered.

Carolyn sighed. "And you didn't want any of the sandwiches I made for you before I left?"

Arthur squirmed a little where he sat. "...not really."

She almost didn't want to ask. "And what was is that caused the fire?"

"Sausages in the toaster," he sighed. "I thought it would be less of a mess, cause when you cook them in a pan, they sort of splatter everywhere, and I thought you'd like if I made less of a mess."

Carolyn sighed, surveying the unintended mess Arthur had caused. "Yes. Well."

She turned to the paramedic.

"Is he alright?"

"Slight smoke inhalation. He'll be fine."

Arthur tried to smile at her again, but it wasn't really working.

The house was determined to be structurally sound, and the only actual damage was to the kitchen, where one wall was blackened and soaked. There was an overhanging smoke cloud, but Carolyn opened all the windows and turned the fans on.

She sent Arthur to bed early, after quizzing him on the proper protocol for cooking.

"When do you use the oven?"

"When you are in the kitchen."

"And when do you use the microwave?"

"When you're at home."

"What does not go in the microwave?"

"Metal. Animals. Melty things. Marshmallows. Wow, that's a lot of M things."

"Arthur!" Carolyn snapped.

"Sorry."

"What goes in the toaster?"

"Bread. Waffles. Bagels."

"And what does not go in the toaster?"

Arthur sighed. "Sausages."

"And?" Carolyn prompted.

Arthur frowned. "Animals?"

"And?"

Arthur only stared blankly at her.

"Metal," she said firmly. "Never put metal in the toaster. Do not use a fork to get your bagel out if it's stuck. Ever."

Arthur nodded, his eyes a bit wide. But Carolyn could only hope that it sunk in.

God knows that was all she needed; another kitchen mishap.


	2. Stripes

She was out with Herc, but not on a date, of course, when her phone rang. Arthur was calling.

Carolyn was well aware that Arthur called for a variety of reasons, ones that ranged from an interesting television show he was watching about African animals, all the way to calling to ask if bunnies really could glow in the dark. Most often it was a brief talk, usually her telling Arthur (sometimes not so) politely to leave her alone, because she sure didn't know and/or care.

Of course, some times Arthur actually called because he needed something serious.

This happened to be one of those times.

* * *

They were at dinner, it had been Herc's turn to pick, and he chose some stupid vegetarian place. It wasn't particularly fancy, but no one else in the place seemed to be pleased when her phone rang, and she had the nerve to answer it.

She only glared back as she picked it up.

"Yes Arthur?" she sighed.

"Oh, hi mum."

"Don't sound so surprised to hear that it's me," she interjected. "You called me after all."

"Right."

He paused.

"What is it Arthur?" she sighed.

"Oh! Yeah, I was just wondering... just a hypocritical question-"

"Of course," she muttered.

"Yeah, anyway, just hypocritically, what does a broken bone look like?"

"What did you do?" she demanded.

"What?" he protested. "I never said that I did anything!"

"Arthur," she said firmly, gesturing to Herc. "You do not just ask about breaking a bone for _fun. _So tell me, what did you do?"

Arthur sighed. "I sort of, maybe, fell down some of the stairs."

"And what did you hurt?"

"My arm."

Carolyn covered up her phone for a second.

"Arthur's fallen down the stairs," she whispered to Herc. "We have to go."

She got to her feet and shrugged her coat on, pressing the phone back to her ear.

"And what does it look like?" she probed.

"Erm, well it doesn't look funny, not like it does in cartoons, so that's good right?" He sounded hopeful.

"Arthur," she scolded, sliding into Herc's car.

"Oh. Well, it's already turning funny colours. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Carolyn sighed, leaning her head against the window. "Does it hurt?"

"Oh, yeah. Loads."

Carolyn closed her eyes. "Arthur, I'll be there shortly. Just... sit. Don't move. Okay?"

"Yup," he replied.

Carolyn hung up and sighed again.

"What did he do?" Herc asked.

"Fell down the stairs. Probably broke his arm." She glanced at Herc. "Would you mind taking us to the hospital?"

"I will, as long as you let me make this date up to you another time."

Carolyn grimaced at his word choice.

"It's not a date," she informed him for what must have been the fifth time that evening alone. "But we will make up our dinner."

Herc nodded, grinning slyly.

"Oh, rub that stupid grin off your face," she ordered.

* * *

She was almost afraid of what she would find when she arrived home, but Arthur wasn't bleeding all over and there were no bones sticking out of his skin, which was promising. But his arm was indeed swollen and bruised, and looked quite sore.

Arthur was still sitting where he had been when he called, which was on the kitchen floor. He looked rather dazed and was clutching his arm like a broken wing.

"Oh dear," Carolyn tutted, and ran off to find something to splint his arm with, leaving Herc with Arthur.

He knelt down next to him, examining his arm without touching it.

"How did you fall down the stairs Arthur?"

"I'm not... really... sure," he replied.

Herc frowned and examined Arthur's eyes. "Did you hit your head?"

Arthur shrugged, then winced as his arm moved. "I don't think so. I don't remember."

Herc smiled. "Of course."

"Alright," Carolyn announced, returning with an aviation magazine and a mile of stretchy bandages.

She placed Arthur's arm in the curled up magazine and wrapped it loosely with the bandages. When that was all done, she slipped a strap over Arthur's next, and settled his arm in a sling.

Herc raised his eyebrows. "Where did you get that from?"

"Arthur dislocated his shoulder last year. It's a leftover."

And with that, she shepherded Arthur into the back seat of the car, sliding in next to him, leaving Herc sitting like a chauffeur in the front.

"Where to?"

Carolyn gave him the name of the hospital.

"That's further you know."

"Yes," Carolyn said irritably. "I'm aware. But they already know Arthur there."

Herc shrugged, but drove.

* * *

A&E wasn't overly busy, and Arthur was in a room in half an hour, and seeing a doctor at the hour mark. They were sent for x-rays within two, and before the third hour was through, the doctor had returned with the x-rays.

"Sorry Arthur. It's broken. You got both of the bones this time," he said, sticking the x-rays up onto the old fashioned light box to point them out to him.

"Wow..." he breathed, looking at the cracks that had been circled on the film. "Can I keep them?"

"Of course." He turned to Carolyn. "It's non-displaced, so it should heal fine on its own. We'll just cast it." He turned back to Arthur. "What colour?"

This appeared to be a serious decision to Arthur.

"Oh," he said. "Well, if it glowed in the dark, that would be loads of fun, but if it was blue, we could draw aeroplanes on it. Or maybe yellow, because then it would be like playing yellow car. Or maybe red would match my uniform. Or black. Doesn't black match everything?" He looked to his mother for help.

"It's your decision Arthur. It doesn't have to match your uniform if you don't want it to."

"You can get stripes if you want. One colour, and then strips of another on top," the doctor suggested.

Arthur's face lit up, and Carolyn dreaded what he was going to say.

"A captain cast," he whispered, awestruck. "Like, blue... and then yellow stripes. Like Martin!"

Carolyn tried to smile. "That would be lovely."

"Blue?" the doctor asked. "What shade?"

"Mum, show him," Arthur urged, "On your phone."

Carolyn sighed, but found a picture of Martin in his uniform, the sleeve clearly visible.

"Navy blue then, with yellow stripes." He smiled at Arthur and went to retrieve the supplies.

Arthur sank into the pillow on the bed, sighing happily. "Martin will be so impressed," he murmured.

"The meds kicking in now dear?" Carolyn inquired.

"Mmm," Arthur agreed.

* * *

They left the hospital an hour later with a loopy Arthur, proudly clutching his cast to his chest, tracing the yellow strips the doctor had dutifully wrapped around the wrist portion.

"Thank you," Carolyn murmured to Herc in the car, Arthur half asleep in the back seat.

"You promised you'll make it up to me," he reminded her.

"Yes," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "But perhaps next time I should get Arthur a babysitter."

Herc smiled, and Arthur, blissfully ignorant, only murmured something about aeroplanes.


End file.
